Page 93 of Vaquero
She’d looked up when he’d called for her to come to him. So surprised. Shocked even. But she’d covered that initial glance with a full body slam and a feverish kiss that had, at the time, felt authentic. Yet not once had she sought to comfort or hold her frightened son, the boy gathered under Julio’s arm. Not one fuckin’ time. He’d chalked it up to post-traumatic stress then, but now…
Rage burned like volcanic lava in his gut. Had she ever loved him? His head shook automatically. No. He knew that now. Bianca had only ever loved herself. And possibly…
¡Maldita sea cada Zapata que haya vivido!Yes, him. The cold-blooded murderer, Domingo Zapata. The man who’d treated Julio’s son the same way Orlando had treated Domingo’s. Like trash.
Julio ran a hand over his hard, shorn head, pissed at himself for being the dumbest burro, as in ass, on the planet. For not seeing the real woman he’d married for what she’d been all along. For forever believing Bianca was a lady of grace when she was nothing but a conniving, convincing liar. She’d deserted her child. His child! For a Goddamned rapist!
Julio crossed himself again, seeking forgiveness for using the Lord’s name in vain, and for what he intended to do once he caught up with Domingo. Had Bianca borne Zapata a son? Was Dominic that child? Was that why’d she’d walked into the ocean? Out of despair? Because Julio had stolen her from her one true love, when he’d thought he’d been rescuing her? Because she’d quite possibly loved Domingo’s son more than she’d loved Julio’s son?
It seemed far-fetched. Too far-fetched. And yet the truth remained. Bianca had deserted Tomas. That much Julio knew for sure. He’d seen it with his own eyes. After all Julio had done to save her, after he’d risked his life going into Domingo’s lair to rescue her and Tomas, she’d killed herself anyway. Because she’d chosen to love a killer over a hardworking, honorable man.
Tears choked him as he sat there alone, staring at Brazil below, but seeing nothing. God, he was tired. He wanted Meg. Needed Meg. Desperately wanted to hold Dominic’s pure little boy body again. Needed to see that little guy’s smile and to know he was safe. To smell the top of his head. To kiss that head like he’d wanted to kiss Tomas. Again and again. Only those two angels in his life could ease this burden he carried.
Yet even as the bird flew him to his destiny, Julio knew. It was time to talk with Agent Coltrane. It was time to know everything she hadn’t told him.
